Fence
by fyerigurl
Summary: It doesn't matter which way you fall. NiouOC.


**A/N: **Dedicated to V, the boy who broke my heart three weeks ago.

This was written for the NXYZ forum prompt pick up. The prompt was given by **EcstaticPetenshi****.**

**Title:** (Your choice)

**Rating/Word length:** K-T / 800+, preferably oneshot or twoshot.

**Pairing:** oneside!OCxNiou

**Prompt:**She is his girlfriend, but she knows he never seriously loves her. She's now torn between either giving up or struggling to keep her _girlfriend_ title, hopelessly wishing that one day he'll love her back.

Rating is a strong T, and set when they are in high school.

**~x~**

You suppose you are his girlfriend.

Of course, he's never called you that. The first time you hear that phrase is when you're standing by the tennis courts, watching him practice. You do not call out to him, nor can you bring yourself to leave. So you watch, watch the way he glides across the court like ice over marble, with an unparalleled, eerie grace.

And then it's Marui that notices you. "Oh hey, Niou, it's your girlfriend."

He looks up briefly, enough to give you a lofty salute, before returning back to the game.

He neither denies nor accepts what Marui calls you.

Because that's how he is. He walks the line down black and white, smudging it, blurring it, leaving behind him gray, gray, _gray _that is there for you to interpret as you follow him.

_'Interpret it however you want, darling._'

**~x~**

On the way to school, he does not hold your hand, and you do not reach for his. In fact, you plod a step or two behind him, letting him lead.

As you get to your class and are about to enter, he tells you to turn around. He reaches to brush a strand of hair away from your face, letting his fingers linger, letting the back of his knuckles graze your cheek ever so slowly…

He knows everyone is watching.

He kisses you on the cheek, right next to the corner of your mouth, his lips like butterfly wings.

'_So what are you going to do?_'

You stand, stunned, and bring your hand up to touch the place his lips just left, as if looking for some ghost of the warmth that he left on your skin. You stand and do nothing, because it is the easiest thing to do.

**~x~**

Soon after, it's what everyone calls you. His girlfriend. And while you are careful to neither agree nor contradict them, you admit to yourself greedily, possessively, that it sounds good, it _feels_ good.

But it's not right, is it?

His girlfriend.

'_But are you now?_'

You don't really know him. Once in a while, he sits with you on the roof and talks. Mostly about random things, but occasionally the conversation drifts towards something more serious. Occasionally he mentions the trouble at home, casually, as if he is talking about the weather. Every sentence, every word carries layers and whispers of secrets, and you know that he hurts, he must hurt, but at least he's revealing something, right?

(_But this is Niou, and you only know what he wants you to know._)

So you quell the questions rising in your throat and do nothing, because it is the easiest thing to do.

**~x~**

He doesn't love you. You know that much, at least.

**~x~**

At night, when you are in his room, and his bare skin is pressed against yours, his breath hot and erratic against your ear, _this isn't right_, but it feels so good, so good, so _disgustingly_ good…

And you _know _why. It makes you feel wanted. At least he wants you, even if on the most primal, shallow, superficial level possible. At least he wants you, you think possessively.

At least he wants you.

And it disgusts you, this guilty pleasure, as you run the palm of your hand along the ridges of his body, the skin searing and burning, as he flushes and shudders and gasps under your touch, it disgusts you how empowered you feel.

That this nationally ranked tennis player, this infamous trickster of the courts, this boy who has been chased by countless other girls, could be so undone with your touch.

(_But this is Niou, and he is never undone_.)

**~x~**

Your favorite moment is when he is still and sleeping next to you. His face is unguarded. There is no glint in his ice blue eyes, no secretive quirk of his lips. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest as he simply breathes, breathes, breathes…

Things are less complicated when he isn't thinking. He is just a sleeping boy, and nothing more.

You slide up next to him to press yourself against him and feel your hearts beating together in a broken harmony.

**~x~**

There are times where you want to ask, "Hey. What are we?" but you still and hold your tongue, because you are afraid.

You are afraid that if you ask, it'll stop.

Whatever_ it_ is.

And as much as you are confused, you know that you don't want it to stop.

So you do nothing, because it is the easiest thing to do.

**~x~**

_What-_

He pushes you against the locker and kisses you, stealing the unsaid questions in your lips as your breaths mingle, kisses that are too gentle and too rough, and not enough, _never _enough, because it is all your longing, longing, longing…

-_are we?_

**~x~**

_You don't love him._

You watch as he rallies a ball against Marui. The sunlight plays in his hair and ignites a glow in those icy eyes, and you are reminded of just how beautiful he is.

You don't love him, you tell yourself, and your face twists into a hollow smile. _You can't._

You know he doesn't love you; you've accepted that long ago. But it can't just be lust either. Why would he go out of his way to tease you? Why would he bother to single you out, and embarrass you in front of your classmates? Why would he-

(_But this is Niou, and no one ever knows what he's up to._)

This is all just a game to him, isn't it, you think. Just how everything in his life is. He won't crush your heart, oh no, he's not that cruel, but he will play with it and toy with your emotions for as long as it amuses him. And once he grows bored, he will toss it aside, battered and bruised, but not quite broken, because that would be too easy, and where's the fun in that?

And it makes sense, you think, as he smashes the ball against Marui ("_Fifteen-love!_"), that if this is a game, like tennis, then love means nothing.

_It's just a game, isn't it?_

You play along, even though games are only fun when both people want to play.

_What do you want from me?_

You tell yourself to stop, stop questioning it, and just let things be what they are.

So you walk along this sky high fence, back and forth, like Marui's specialty shot where the ball slides along the net, teetering, threatening to fall on either side.

(_Except it doesn't matter which way you fall, because either way, you know you won't be able to get back up._)

**~x~**

Raking your nails enticingly up and down his back as he kisses you hungrily, you wonder how, how can he taste so sinfully sweet yet so, so bitter at the same time?

You need this. "Please," you breathe. "I need…" Your words are lost as he kisses you again, bitter snow, sweet sunlight, bitter snow.

_I need you to need me._

He smirks, a smile that reveals absolutely nothing.

'_Of course you do._'

**~x~**

So again, you do nothing, and let whatever _it_ is continue. Because it is the easiest thing to do—

-but it is so, _so_, hard.

**~x~**

You know that one day he will leave you; he will slip out of your life just as quietly and enigmatically as he came in. And you know, you _know_ that when that time comes, you will hurt and suffer and _break_ and oh, _just end things now_, because you are only delaying the inevitable.

But you can't.

So just balance on that fence, cling along the very edge, and pretend that you haven't already fallen.

**~x~**

_It's okay._

And you can hear that bitter laughter echoing in your head, but you can't tell if it's his or your own.

_'Sweetheart, who are you kidding?_'

**~x~**

End

**A/N:** Yeah, V, this is pretty much how I felt. So, _fuck_ you.

EP: I hope you enjoyed this.

Inspired by both doroniasobi and Neon Genesis's characterizations of Niou.

This piece is actually very special to me, because I wove a lot of my own experiences and feelings into the writing. It's not as polished as I would like, but I feel like it would feel less _me_ if I edited it any more, so yeah. Bear with me?

Please leave a review and let me know what you think.


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